


Confluence

by Ausp_ice



Series: So You Made A Deal [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Magic, Asexual Character, Asexual Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Asexuality Spectrum, Biting, Bottom Upgraded Connor | RK900, Deals, Digital Art, Fae Nines, First Time, Genderfluid Nines, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Selectively Mute Connor, Shapeshifter Nines, Sign Language, Top Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24862411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ausp_ice/pseuds/Ausp_ice
Summary: Connor is twenty-six when they tell him his dad has less than four months to live.But as his father nears the end of his life, Connor makes a deal to save him. A deal with a fae.-Inspired bythisTumblr post!
Relationships: Connor & Gavin Reed, Connor/Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hank Anderson & Connor
Series: So You Made A Deal [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798897
Comments: 28
Kudos: 94





	1. The Deal

**Author's Note:**

> So. This is the first explicit fic that I'm posting in the public, haha... You know, I once thought I'd never read smut, let alone write it. And here I am HA  
> Explicit chapters will be marked with an (E), if that's something you'd like to avoid! Or go after, heh.
> 
> I've been posting this in the New ERA server, and I must thank all of them for all of the encouragement I've gotten so far :'D  
> I've already written over 47K of this (on the fourth installment of the series), and I'm still not entirely sure how much more I'll have! I'm writing without an outline and very little plan, so I'm letting the characters take me.
> 
> And - a big thank you to [Ronnie Silverlake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RonnieSilverlake/pseuds/RonnieSilverlake) for agreeing to beta this! And doing plenty more than that, with discussing ideas and worldbuilding and just being a wonderful friend <3
> 
> Note: Connor is selectively mute in this fic, though it comes up more in the later chapters and later works. If at any point you feel that it's been misrepresented, let me know! I will say that I use speech-like phrasing for signed dialogue, though.  
> Also, Nines is genderfluid but typically uses the gender of the face he's wearing, so he's he/him mostly here :>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 2715

Connor is twenty-six when they tell him his dad has less than four months to live. 

Despite everything—despite all the advancements in medicine, despite magic having been revealed to the world years ago—"There's nothing we can do."

He breaks. How could he not? His dad has been— _ everything.  _ If he leaves—if he leaves, Connor will—he'll— 

"It's okay, son. You'll be okay. It's my time."

Connor plasters on a brave face as best he can. He smiles emptily as his dad withers, as he becomes weaker and weaker, and so, so tired. 

At the very least, they give him the drugs that make everything painless. It's not like they have to worry about long-term effects when he'll be d— 

It's when there's less than a month left that his dad confesses, "I'm… scared. Can you believe it? Spent years chasing death, and now that it's coming to me, all I want is a little more time…" 

Connor smiles. Dad reaches up with a trembling hand to brush away his tears. Connor takes it gently and places it over his dad's chest, patting it lightly as tired eyes slip closed again. 

Once he's sure his dad is asleep, Connor leaves. He finds people. Asks questions. Makes phone calls. Looks up articles online. Researches old sightings, old stories. 

He visits his dad one more time before he goes, in case he can't come back. "Hey, Dad," he murmurs, brushing aside greasy hair. "I'm gonna help you, okay? No matter what happens… I love you, Dad."

His dad blinks at him blearily. Not understanding. "Connor?" Slurred.

"I'm gonna go, now. Wish me luck." He squeezes his dad's hand, smiling, and then slips his hand out of the grasp.

His dad weakly grasps at his wrist. "Where… going…?" 

"Shh, it's okay. You'll be okay." Connor gently pries away the fingers.

Dad looks even more confused. 

Connor reaches down to brush away his hair one last time. His dad's eyes close at the touch. "Goodbye," Connor whispers.

He leaves.

Within the hour, he's standing at the edge of the woods beyond the city. His phone is in his car. No one knows he's here. 

"Time to get lost, then…"

He steps into the woods. The sunlight filters through the leaves in streams of buttery gold. The trees whisper a language he doesn't understand. He goes off the beaten path, careful to disturb as little of the greenery as possible. 

Very rapidly, his sense of direction evaporates. Not long after, his sense of time. There's no way to tell where the sun is in the deep foliage. He has no idea where or when he is. 

He's tired, thirsty, hungry. He's scared, too, that he was wrong, that this would be for nothing, that he'd die alone, lost in this forest. But he swallows it. Strangles it. 

Only the truly lost have ever stumbled through a Door to the realm of the fae, after all. 

The sun starts to set at some point. The muted light in the forest stretches and fades, until he's left fumbling in rapidly growing darkness. He thinks his vision might be going fuzzy at the edges, or maybe he's seeing stars winking in and out of the corners of his eyes. He doesn't know. He's so cold. He's so tired… 

He gropes around until he finds a tree. He brushes away the twigs at the base, and sits with his back to it. Knees curled up, head down. Just a short break. Just… close his eyes for a second… 

… 

. . .

  
  


. . .

  
  


"What have we here?" 

He startles at the voice badly, awareness snapping into place like a whip on his mind. 

The first thing he notices is that the forest is no longer pitch black. Mushrooms and ferns around him seem to glow with faint hues of white and blue. Moonlight, he thinks, streams through the gaps in the foliage. Motes of light blink in the air, casting the scene in an otherworldly ambience. 

Did he… make it?

He sits up slowly, wincing at the soreness and exhaustion in his limbs. "Hello?" he calls, looking around. "Is anyone there?"

"It's been a long time since a human wandered into my realm."

The voice seems to come from all directions at once, and it has an ethereal, echoing quality to it. He's not sure where to look. "Are you a fae?" He asks the emptiness.

Connor didn't take notice of the ambient sounds of the forest until they all seemed to just—pause, for a moment. 

"Why are you here?" asks a voice right next to his ear, much clearer now. He jumps, spinning around, but no one's there. 

It sounds unnervingly like his own voice. 

Connor bites his lip, wringing his fingers together. "I want to make a deal," he blurts. 

Silence. Until he hears soft footfalls all around him, pressing fallen leaves underfoot. 

He blinks, and—

There they are. A beautiful being awash in black, white, and icy blues. A winter fae, almost certainly. The wings are the first thing he notices—six segments, each a black frame windowing panes of glassy blue. The fae wears a long robe that cascades neatly to their feet, which are covered by something black and form-fitting. Their hands are the same—but they end in the dangerous tips of sharp claws. 

They have a crown of antlers, black, curling delicately above their head, decorated with silvery cuffs and elegant chain links. Long ears. Slit eyes.

But what makes Connor really freeze is that their—his? face looks exactly like Connor's, besides the icy eyes and inhuman characteristics. 

"Wh—why do you look like me?"

The fae smiles faintly, revealing a row of pointed teeth. "I can change my appearance, of course. It is much more interesting to see the humans squirm, like this."

"Oh," Connor responds, rather dumbly. "Are you not a guy, then?"

"I am at the moment," the fae answers. "So, human, tell me." He approaches, and Connor can't help taking a step back, only to find himself against the tree. The fae comes close enough for him to touch, but Connor feels like he'll probably get smote if he does. The fae doesn't have the same reservations, lifting a clawed finger to tilt Connor's chin up. "What do you desire?"

Connor can't tear his eyes away from the icy blue slits. The threads in the irises almost seem to shimmer as the fae awaits his answer. Connor swallows, and then: "My dad, he's. He's dying, he's got less than a month left. I want him to be cured, I want him to live a long and fulfilling life, instead of wasting away from this disease."

"I see," the fae murmurs, cold breath ghosting over his face. "And what do you offer?"

Connor closes his eyes. He knows he shouldn't. He knows that this is how all the fables go, this is everything they warn against. But he came here ready to die. "Whatever you want."

There's no response for what feels like a minute. Connor carefully opens his eyes to see the almost-mirrored face of the fae staring at him. 

The finger on his chin trails to his chest. "You shouldn't offer yourself so easily, human. I could ask for your life, your soul. Your very happiness." 

"I know," he says, not looking away.

The fae hums. "Your soul would be very useful, true…"

Connor's eyes flicker, fall. Guess he won't be seeing his dad again, after all. 

"But that of a newborn is truly without equal."

Newborn? Connor blinks back up at the fae. 

"Your firstborn, then. In exchange for restoring your father to health, you will give me your first child."

Connor doesn't hesitate. "Deal."

The fae smiles faintly, all teeth. "Very well. When you return home, your father will be in pristine health again. It will be like he never fell ill at all. Even the memory of his suffering will fade…"

Connor feels the tears pricking at his eyes. "Thank you so much. He means everything to me."

The fae laughs softly, a sound that makes Connor think of tinkling chimes. "I know, I know. Let’s hope the price wasn’t too much for you after all," he steps back. "Only time will tell."

Connor lets out a breath, straightening from where he was leaning on the tree. "Alright. So," he fiddles with the edge of his sleeve. "When do we start?"

The fae tilts his head at Connor, eyes narrowing. "If I may ask you to elaborate?"

"You said you wanted my firstborn," Connor hedges, fidgeting. 

"Yes? And you agreed?"

Connor takes a breath. "I don't know if I'll ever have children, and I don't want to cheat you out of our deal," he says quickly, "so—when can we start."

He can see the understanding click into place. The fae's eyes widen slightly, and his cheeks become dusted with a faint blue. "Ah," he says. "Ah, I suppose that would be… efficient." 

Connor's pretty sure he's blushing, too. 

The fae looks almost— _ conflicted, _ and Connor thinks it might be the most genuine emotion he's seen from him all… night? He thinks it's night. 

"I will find you," the fae finally says. "A few days after you return home and recover from your," he glances at Connor's dirtied clothes, and he can't help but feel self-conscious, especially in the presence of the beautiful, pristine being before him, "escapade." 

"Oh. Okay." He scuffs the earth under his foot. "Also, how do I get home?"

The fae gives him a look. Connor squirms. 

A few seconds pass, and then the fae sighs. "Since it would not be conducive to our deal for you to get lost here, I will send you back."

The fae is in front of him in two quick strides. Before he can react, there's a cool palm on his forehead. 

He's suddenly overcome by dizziness. His legs fold under him, and before he can hit the ground, he's already unconscious.

* * *

He wakes up in his car, lying across the back seat. He groans at the brightness of the morning sun streaming through the windows. 

Where… why…?

The forest. The fae. The deal.

He jerks up. It's morning, so—has it only been a day? He gropes around the pocket of the driver's seat, where he left his phone. As soon as he turns it on, there's a flood of missed notifications—many from his dad. He checks the date, too—three days have passed. 

He vaguely remembers something about time flowing differently in the fae realm… right. 

Connor takes a breath, and taps on  **Hank Anderson (Dad)** . 

It rings once, twice. Click.  _ "Hello?" _ Hesitant, shaky. 

"Hey, Dad."

_"Connor,"_ he sounds a little choked up, _"Connor, what the fuck did you do? You—you left three days ago, and. The next day, I'm_ fine. _The doctors are baffled. I'm fine, but then I find out you're fucking_ missing. _I thought—what did you do? Where did you go?"_

"I'm okay. Are you home, or still at the hospital?"

_ "I'm at home, they couldn't find a reason to—no, fuck you, you don't get to change the subject on me. Answer me, dammit!" _

"I'm really glad you're alright, Dad. I'll be at your place in about an hour."

_ "Connor, don't you dare hang up—" _

He hangs up. It immediately starts ringing again, but Connor ignores it in favor of getting into the driver's seat and starting up the car.

His phone rings again. He silences it, and starts the long drive to his dad's home. 

* * *

He's standing in front of the house, key hovering over the lock. 

Dad is… probably mad. He sounded really mad. Connor doesn't regret this, any of it. But he still doesn't know if he's ready to face— 

The door is wrenched open, and there he is. His sunken eyes and pale skin are already returning to a healthier color. His hair is clean, washed. He looks  _ healthy,  _ for the first time in what seems like forever, and then the sight of him is occluded by the tears starting to flow freely from Connor's eyes. 

He expects his dad to start yelling at him. Or something. He closes his eyes, bracing himself for the sting of the words. 

But he's instead pulled forward and wrapped in an encompassing warmth. Connor melts into it, the exhaustion and painful hunger suddenly making themselves known again as he shudders into his dad's shoulder. 

"God, Connor, you look like shit…" Dad's arms are shaking. 

Connor only sniffles into the shoulder his face is pressed against. 

"Come on, son, let's get you inside, yeah?"

He gives his dad a nod, allowing him to pull away and drag Connor into the house by his wrist. 

"Hungry?" He nods. "Thirsty?" Another nod. "Do you wanna eat first or clean up first?"

_ Eat,  _ he signs. 

"Alright. I'll make something quick. Want pasta?" Another nod. "Alright. You can wait here, if you want," Dad says, guiding him to the couch. "That okay?"

He nods again, and his dad gently presses him down until he's on the cushions of the couch. A light squeeze on his shoulder, and then his dad heads to the kitchen.

A low  _ whoof _ sounds next to him, and then—Sumo. Dad must have gotten him back from Jeffrey. 

The dog puts his head on his knee, and Connor obediently runs his hand across the fur, smiling slightly. Once he's used to the motion, Connor leans his head back on the sofa, turning to watch his dad cook. 

It's been so long since  _ he  _ was the one to take care of Connor. It's been so long since—since Connor felt like he could breathe. 

His breath hitches, and the tears start flooding his eyes again. This feels—like a dream. Maybe the fae glamoured him into dreaming this perfect unreality—but, no, fae can't lie, and he  _ promised. _ This… this is real. Dad is here, dad's alive, he's going to  _ be  _ alive— 

"Hey, Connor, hey. It's okay, it's okay." Sumo being pulled away with a soft whine, and then a weight pressing down on the couch next to him. An arm around his shoulder. 

"I'm so glad," he sobs. "I'm so glad you're okay. Dad, I—you're  _ okay." _

"Yeah," Dad pulls him close. "Yeah, I'm okay."

It is at this point that Connor realizes: "You didn't… drink?" Part of him would have expected that. 

His dad scoffs. "Nah. Nah, I thought—I thought you… If you gave your life up for me, I wasn't going to waste it."

"Oh…" Connor squeezes his arms around his dad. 

A few seconds pass. "You gonna tell me what you did?"

Connor buries his face into his dad's shoulder. "Not important."

"Like hell it isn't," his dad bites out, pulling a chuckle out of Connor. "Dammit, Connor—it's magic-related, isn't it? What'd you do, huh? Sell your soul? Trade our time?"

"Nothing I'll miss."

"Connor—"

"I promise. It was a good deal, all considered. It won't affect you, or your time with me."

His dad gives a frustrated sigh. "Okay. Fine. Fine. You're a real stubborn bastard, you know that?"

Connor laughs. "Yeah, I know." 

Dad gives another sigh. "Whatever. Wanna eat? Dinner's ready." 

"Yes, please." 

Food is even more delicious to someone starving, and water has never tasted so sweet. He wolfs down the food fast enough that Dad laughs, "Slow down! You're gonna choke if you keep going at it like that."

Once he's done, his dad shoos him away from the dishes, insisting that he go take a shower. "And don't even think about driving back to your apartment tonight. You're sleeping here."

"Okay," Connor says. 

The hot water is a blessing to his sore muscles. He thinks he might've just stood there for twenty minutes before finally stepping out, drying off, and putting on the oversized shirt designated as his pajamas. He runs a hand across his sleeve. Soft. 

Dad is on the couch, TV on but volume turned low. Connor pads up to him, tapping his shoulder. "I'm gonna go to sleep."

"Alright, son." He pats Connor's hand. "Good night."

"Good night," Connor echoes, and then returns to his old room. 

He's out as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art is posted on [dA](https://sta.sh/0zyxsrao0ej) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ausp_ice/status/1271614683527524353?s=20).


	2. Collection (E)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's never done this before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: ~2530
> 
> Note: Connor is asexual, sex-positive. Possibly demisexual? He just hasn't ever felt attraction to anyone, but he's definitely not opposed to the act itself.

Three days pass. Connor was instructed by his editor to relax for a few days, and his dad is on leave from work. There isn't much for them to do. He's stayed at his dad's place the whole time—going back to his own apartment doesn't feel right, still. 

Connor busies himself tidying up the house. Walking Sumo. Watering the plants in the backyard. Reading. 

"You're nervous," his dad notices. 

"What makes you say that?" 

"You've been playing with your coin all day." 

"Oh," he says, catching it. "Sorry."

His dad sighs. "I wasn't—you can keep going. But you've been really antsy since yesterday."

Connor starts rolling the coin across his fingers again. "Wish I could go back to work. Not a lot to do here…" Not false, but not the whole truth. 

His dad gives him a skeptical look. "Is that really it?"

Connor shrugs. 

A pause. "Do you wanna head back to your own place?" 

Connor straightens, looking at his dad with wide eyes. "Dad—"

"You don't have to look after me now. If you need space, it's fine."

"That's not it," Connor insists. "I just…" He frowns, trailing off. 

A hand on his shoulder makes him look up again. "Why don't you head back for tonight? You can come back a later day, if you want." 

"... Okay," he agrees. 

A few hours later, he finds himself in front of his own apartment. It's been… six days or so since he's been here, hasn't it? Good thing he doesn't have any pets. 

He taps his keycard against the reader, and the door opens to his sparse living room. There isn't much. A couch, a rug, a coffee table, a lamp. No TV—there really hasn't been anything to catch his interest since he moved out, and he has his laptop. Further in, there's his small dining table, and his kitchen beyond that. 

Connor toes his shoes off with a sigh, stepping inside. He makes dinner, a simple meal of fried rice with eggs and onion, before he goes to his bedroom and sits in his chair, spinning absentmindedly. 

Dad barely managed to convince him to move out, all those years ago. "You should start being more independent," he said. Among other things. Even then, Connor chose a place only about a twenty-minute drive away. 

The sound of his doorbell ringing snaps him out of his musings. He takes about five seconds to wonder who it might be, before he starts sweating.

In moments, he's at the door, opening it. 

He's not sure what he expected. It's simultaneously surprising and not to see someone that looks almost exactly like him, only slightly taller and with piercing blue eyes. He looks perfectly human, wearing a simple black turtleneck instead of his whole faery ensemble. 

"Hi," Connor says, a little high pitched. 

"Hello," the fae returns, face impassive. "May I come in?"

"Sure," Connor replies airily, stepping aside and letting him in. 

"Thank you." 

The fae scans his apartment. He feels oddly self-conscious, finding himself running a thumb over his knuckles, before he blurts, "I'm Connor, by the way. I figure, if we're going to, well," he gestures vaguely, "it'd be nice to know each other's names?"

The fae raises an eyebrow. "I wouldn't recommend giving your name to our kind so easily."

"Oh," Connor mumbles, gaze falling lower, "sorry."

"... Why are _you_ apologizing?" Connor looks back up to see the fae giving him that tilt of his head. "In any case, you can call me Nines."

Interesting name. Or—alias, probably. "Okay," Connor nods. "Nice to officially meet you, I guess. Bedroom?" He jabs his thumb to the corresponding door. 

Nines hums. "Yes. Lead the way." 

His nerves are buzzing by the time they're in his room. He doesn't bother turning on the light—the faint moonlight streaming through his window seems sufficient for this sort of thing. He sits on the edge of his bed, and Nines mirrors him. "So, uh, you ever done this before?"

"... I have not. Have you?"

"... No…"

They stare at each other for a moment. Nines lifts a hand to his chin. "Hm."

Connor covers a snort with a cough. "Okay, great. 'Bout to have sex with a fae and neither of us know what we're doing."

Nines purses his lips. "This is inconvenient."

"I'm sure I can figure it out! How hard can it be?" He pauses. "Pun not intended."

Nines gives him that faintly judging look again. 

_"Anyways,"_ Connor pulls his hands together. "Are we gonna—are you gonna just look like that while we're doing this? Like—like me?"

"Yes," Nines tilts his head. "Is that a problem?"

"I—guess not." It's… a little thrilling, honestly. He's always been a little vain, but Nines somehow looks even better. Unfair.

He carefully lifts his hands to frame Nines's face, eyes falling to lips just like his own. The skin is slightly chill to the touch—just enough to raise an eyebrow at, but not particularly freezing. 

The fae tilts his head, as if to say, _what are you waiting for?_ So Connor leans in and presses their lips together. It's awkward, at first. Too much teeth, and neither of them know the right way to align their faces. Connor parts his lips, and Nines hums, before doing the same. He doesn't expect Nines to plunge his tongue into his mouth—Connor makes a sound of surprise, eyes fluttering shut—but curls his own tongue around the appendage in response. Nines hums again, and— _he's pretty sure human tongues aren't supposed to be that long._ It shifts and presses teasingly deeper into his mouth, into his throat, and he feels his dick twitch in interest even as it presses _too deep—_

Nines immediately pulls away as soon as he starts to gag, black muscle—wait, black? —sliding out of his mouth, a trail of spit connecting them even as the appendage returns to a more human color and length before disappearing between glistening lips. Connor thinks it might have been forked, before.

He's on his back, he realizes. Nines was pressing him to the bed as he literally shoved his tongue down Connor's throat, and now, the fae is leaning over him, watching him with almost hungry eyes. "Holy shit," he breathes. 

Nines rolls his eyes. "Are you going to have intercourse with me or not, human?"

"I thought _I'd_ be bad at pillow talk. Can we take off our pants?"

"... You're bad at it, as well."

He huffs and answers by running his hands down Nines's torso, feeling the muscle tone underneath. It's the same as his, and it's so weird to think that he's basically fucking his own body—except maybe…?

He palms Nines's groin, and the fae lets out a soft huff, shivering. Not a dick. He figured, but still. His own cock twitches. 

"You're so slow, human," Nines says a little breathily, before batting Connor's hands away. His belt is off in seconds, the soft clink loud in the air filled only with their heavy breaths, and then his pants follow, everything coming off with inhuman grace. He barely has the time to take in the sight of his bare skin, hairless, before Nines turns his attention to Connor. He drags his hands down Connor's hips, hooking on his belt. The fae pauses as he notices the tent in Connor's pants, and presses a hand against it.

"Ngh—" it feels—surprisingly _good,_ and he can't help jerking his hips up in an attempt to increase the friction. Nines pulls his hand away, and Connor curses. "Fuck," he fists the sheets, "Who's slow now, fae?"

Nines narrows his eyes at him, and then leans forward to press their mouths together again, and that _tongue_ is in him, pressing deep, but not deep enough to make him gag. Connor's hands fly to Nines's shoulders, and he's powerless to do much more than let Nines ravage his mouth. 

By the time Nines pulls away, Connor's pants and underwear have been discarded somewhere, and his dick is free to bob in the chill air of his room. The fae's brows furrow, like he's not sure what to do next. Connor's read _some_ smut, at least, so he has… some idea. 

He trails his hands down, resting one on Nines's waist, and bringing the other lower—pressing his fingers against the wetness between Nines's legs. "Ah," the fae breathes, falling against Connor's chest. He moves his head to the side, allowing him to rest his head in the crook of Connor's neck. This close, Connor can _smell_ him—faint pine and quiet wintry days. A crisp, clean scent, overpowering the smell of his own sweat. "Hnmm," Nines sounds softly, right next to his ear, as Connor slips a finger inside. 

Connor shivers at the feeling of the huffed breaths against his ear. He slides another finger inside, reveling in the slick sensation of Nines clenching around him as he scissors him open. Once he slides a third in, Nines grips his shoulder tightly, hissing. "Get on with it, human…" he whispers into Connor's ear. 

A shudder runs through Connor's entire body, and he pulls his hand out of Nines. The sticky sound that accompanied the action only furthers the ache in his cock. He grabs Nines by his waist, one hand still covered in slick, and pushes him over, flipping their positions. 

Nines seems surprised by the action, and it's at this point, now that Connor can see his face, that Connor notices the changes in his appearance. His eyes are slitted, and his teeth—aren't _all_ sharp, but his canines look a little pointier than Connor would expect. His ears are slightly elongated into tips, and he's flushed with a faint blue. 

"You're really pretty," Connor says without thinking. "Not the—me part. The you part. Though I mean I guess the me part too—"

Nines pulls him into another searing kiss, mouthing at him like he wants to eat him. He nips at Connor's lips, and he feels like if the fae bites any harder he'll draw blood. They break apart once Connor feels like he's running out of air, huffing breathlessly. Nines hooks a hand around the back of his neck, pressing him close enough for Nines to hiss into his ear, "Get inside me."

Connor doesn't waste any more time lining himself up. He presses in slowly, marveling at the way the flesh parts around him, squeezing his length. Both of them moan at the sensation. Without warning, legs hook around his back and he's _shoved_ all the way in, forcing a broken cry from both him and Nines. 

Once he's recovered enough from the spike of sensation, he notices the nails pressing into his arm and the back of his neck. He slides his hands up to either side of Nines, lifting himself up slightly to see the fae biting his lips, eyes scrunched shut. 

"Hey." He lifts a hand to brush through Nines's hair. "Hey, you okay? We can take it slow." 

Icy eyes flutter open at him, and the fae eases up in biting his lip. "I was not expecting it to be so intense," he says. 

"Same. Does it hurt?"

Nines shakes his head. "Just for that moment. Please, continue."

"Okay. Tell me if you need me to stop or slow down, okay?"

"Okay," he echoes. 

So Connor slowly slides out, and then back in. Nines's eyes fall shut, letting out a quiet, pleased sigh. Connor does it again, and again, watching the fae's expression shift from tense to relaxed, features seeming to almost quiver like chameleon skin as he loses himself in the pleasure. His ears grow to be longer, then back. His teeth shift into neat rows of points, and then back to human incisors. 

Connor finds himself starting to shake, as well, barely holding himself back—he doesn't want to hurt him, he doesn't want to— 

"Faster," Nines breathes, and Connor doesn't need to be told twice. He adjusts his position, sitting up and putting his hands on Nines's waist, before slamming in deeply. "Ah!" Nines cries out. "A-again, do that again."

He does. He pulls out almost all the way, and pushes himself in forcefully. The air is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, his own grunts as he thrusts again and again, the soft gasps and moans from the being writhing under him. "Ah, hnm, ah, ah! Ah, _Connor!"_

Hearing his name seems to strike him somewhere deep, and he comes with a shout, vision going white as he spills into the wet heat clenching around him. He grinds deeply as Nines milks him, the sounds of squelching filling his ears, until he finally collapses over the body under him. 

Nines continues grinding almost lazily against him, like he still wants Connor's cock even deeper. It isn't long before it starts being too much, and Connor tiredly bumps his face against Nines's. "W-wait, it's, 's too much right now…"

The grinding slows, stops, and hands trail up his back, sliding under his shirt. The cool skin is pleasant against his heated flesh, and he sighs, nuzzling into Nines's neck. "Did you come," he mumbles. 

"... Yes. It was… very good."

Connor hums. "Glad to hear," he says, idly trailing a hand up Nines's arm, to his neck, to the points of his ears, to his soft, mussed hair. "Your hair is so soft," Connor grumbles. "Unfair. You're literally being me right now…"

Nines laughs, such a light and pretty sound, and Connor can feel it all the way down to where they're still connected. "Benefits of being a shapeshifter." 

Connor hums, shifting back so he can see Nines's face. He still has some fae characteristics, the slit eyes and slightly pointed ears. He looks… blissed out, and Connor feels something flutter in him at the thought he could do _that_ for a being so much more powerful than him. "Are… you gonna leave?" 

The fae blinks. He runs a hand across Connor's cheek, before lifting up to brush away that tuft of hair. It falls back, like it always does. "I'll stay until you fall asleep. I will take care of cleaning things up.

"Mmkay," Connor mumbles. He can already feel heaviness pulling at his eyes, even though it's not all that late. He fights the sensation, keeping his eyes on Nines. "Don't wanna fall asleep…"

Nines pulls him closer, pressing his lips to Connor's forehead. "My apologies. I called your name with a little more influence than was strictly reasonable."

Fae thing, he's guessing. "Was really good, though… thanks…"

Nines starts to lean away, but Connor hooks his hands around the back of Nines's neck, bringing him close, bringing their lips together. It's soft and sensual, Nines choosing to leave his tongue out of it, this time. Connor pulls away reluctantly, staring into those inhuman eyes, uniquely Nines's in the mirror of Connor's own face. 

His blinks become heavier, and he finds himself losing seconds of awareness. Nines brushes a hand through his hair, and the sensation is enough to untether him from the last threads of reality he clings to. 

"Good night, Connor," is the last thing he hears, before everything slips to nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed it, ha. Neither of them know much about what they're doing. 
> 
> Also: Today we learned that Connor would, in fact, fuck his clone.


	3. Miscalculations (E)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: ~1769
> 
> Connor's just doing his best.

Connor wakes up alone. It seems he's in his pajamas, which, okay, sure. He's been tucked neatly into bed and his clothes have been folded on his desk. 

He takes a moment to stare at the ceiling, letting his brain slowly catch up to reality. 

He really just lost his virginity to a fae. He had sex to make a kid that the fae could—what, eat the soul of? He doesn't really know how it works, but the knowledge churns uncomfortably in his mind. 

He honestly thought he'd live his life without ever experiencing… that. He's never really looked at anyone that way. He thinks he could live the rest of his life without it, too, but he has to admit—he doesn't regret the experience. Even thinking about the sounds and sensations of last night causes a heat to pool in his belly. 

He'll probably never see Nines again, now that everything's said and done. He seemed nice enough, all considered… 

No use dwelling on it. 

He takes a shower, even though he already seemed clean. Before he does, though, he takes a look at himself in the mirror. There's not a single trace of what happened—he really wonders how much Nines meant when he said he'd clean up. 

The warmth of the shower numbs his mind from his swirling thoughts, and by the time he's done, he feels relatively normal again. 

He calls his dad. "Hey, how are you doing?"

_ "Fine, thanks for asking,"  _ a drawl answers him.  _ "You?" _

"I'm… better. The thing that made me nervous—I think I'm okay now."

_ "Glad to hear it, kid. What're you going to do today?"  _

"I'm not sure. I'd like to get back to work…" 

His dad sighs.  _ "Course you do. Can't say I feel differently, though,"  _ he chuckles.  _ "Your editor said a few days, right? Well, it's been a few days." _

"True. I'll be sure to tell them that if they yell at me. Will you contact Jeffrey, then?"

_ "Yeah, I think I will. Take care, then?" _

"Thanks. You too. Love you, dad."

_ "Love ya too, kid."  _

He hangs up, sighing. Right, then. He mentally cracks his knuckles—he's not an idiot, once you start the habit of actually cracking your knuckles, you can't stop—and makes his way to his desk. 

It's been a while since he last wrote, but it doesn't take him long to get back into the groove. The hours fly by, interrupted only by the reminders on his phone to eat, drink, go to the bathroom. 

(If they weren't there, he'd lose himself for hours on end.)

Still, he manages to fall asleep at his desk, three pages of  _ dfccdfdfdddddddddddddddddddd _ filled by the time he lifts his head from the keyboard. Oops. 

He deletes the extra text, cleaning himself up and climbing into bed. It's normal. Everything's back to normal. Back to before the diagnosis. 

Connor closes his eyes and lets himself drift away. 

* * *

The next day, he's halfway through a chapter when the doorbell rings. He checks the clock. 7:06 PM. 

Who… ?

He recalls very strongly the last time he had a visitor, and he feels his palms starting to sweat. But that's impossible, there's no way, there's no reason for him to… 

And yet, when Connor opens the door, there he is, looking just as he did last time, same black turtleneck and all. 

"It didn't work," Nines says. 

Connor takes a second to process that. "... Huh?"

Nines sighs. "You didn't impreg—"

"Alright, let's come inside first," Connor interrupts, grabbing Nines by the arm and pulling him inside. 

He falters for a moment—couch? Dining table? Bedroom? 

Not the bedroom. Dining table seems too formal. Couch it is. 

Connor more or less drags Nines over to sit next to him on the cushions. "Okay, now that we're not in a semi-public space— _ huh?" _

"Conception was unsuccessful," Nines says dryly.

"It's been two days! How are you supposed to know?"

Nines raises an eyebrow. "Time flows differently in my realm. Besides, there are spells to check for it. They were all negative." 

Connor places his hand over his mouth, fingers splayed over his lips. "Can fae even…" He gestures vaguely to Nines's belly with his free hand.

"We can. It's not our usual method of procreation, but I know plenty of others who have undergone the experience of bearing a child with a human."

"Not the usual method?" Connor mutters. "What, do you… grow like plants?"

Nines tilts his head. "I suppose you could describe it that way."

… Well, that's interesting.

"In any case, perhaps we simply need more attempts. That is what humans do, isn't it?"

More attempts…?  _ Oh.  _ Connor flushes. "Uh, yeah, I. Yeah." 

"Excellent," Nines says. "Shall we, then?" 

"Right now?"

"When else?"

Well, alright, then.

The second time is a lot less awkward. Connor steps out of his pants as soon as he's in his bedroom, and Nines does the same. He debates taking his shirt off, toying with the hem, before deciding against it. 

Nines takes the lead this time, putting his hands on Connor's shoulders and kissing him slowly. He pushes him backwards, until Connor's legs hit the foot of his bed and Nines lowers him almost gently to the mattress. 

The fae climbs onto him, already grinding their hips together. Connor gasps at the sensation, and Nines takes the chance to plunge that tongue of his inside him, pulling a low moan from Connor. 

It's dizzying, Nines having his way with him like this. Part of it might be his trouble in getting a full breath with the muscle coiling in his mouth. Nines pulls back, slowly enough that he can both watch and feel the glistening tongue slide out, the forked tip—yep, it's definitely forked, of the flattened muscle flicking over Nines's lips as he catches the string of saliva between them. Connor's dick aches at the sight, but he's still surprised when Nines places his hands on Connor's chest and starts sinking down on his length slowly.

Not wasting any time, then. 

Nines gives a quiet little sigh as he bottoms out, seating himself on Connor's hips. Connor, for his part, is unable to do little more than gasp at the wet pressure, putting his hands on Nines's thighs. "Nines," he whines.

_ "Connor," _ Nines sighs, and it makes him shudder all the way down to his bones. And then the fae starts moving, lifting himself up, sinking back down, up, down, and Connor moans loudly, jerking his hips up to meet Nines in the middle.

The fae gasps, "Hnm—ah, Connor, you feel so good…" 

The words fill him with a different kind of warmth, and Connor grabs Nines's hips to shove himself in deeply, fully. Nines groans, a flutter of fae traits blossoming across his face while he continues to ride Connor in strangely graceful motions. "Kiss me," Connor almost begs, and Nines obliges, bending down to meet Connor's lips. They deepen it almost immediately, and Connor tries shoving his own tongue into Nines's mouth this time. The taste and slight chill vaguely remind him of mint, and a spike of heat pools in his gut at the feeling of sharp teeth against his tongue. He pulls away with a pop and a gasp, breathless as their rhythm stutters, as Nines shoves himself forcefully onto Connor's dick. He slides his hands under Connor's shirt, and Connor finds himself doing the same, hands clawing at the smooth skin of Nines's bare back. 

And then Nines is gasping into the crook of his neck, sharp points grazing into his skin. Connor's hips stutter in a combination of arousal and alarm, but when Nines bites down, breaking skin, he loses any sense of awareness, vision whiting out at the sudden pain-pleasure, filling Nines with his seed in a broken shout. 

He returns to reality slowly, Nines having shifted to grinding against him deeply, teeth still embedded in his neck. Connor can't do much more than take it, until Nines shudders and stops, teeth pressing deeper into him. Now that the pleasure is ebbing away, it's really starting to hurt, and Connor paws at Nines's hair. "N-Nines," he croaks, "hurts." 

Nines immediately pulls out his teeth and lifts himself from Connor's softening dick. Connor shudders at the sensations. The fae is looking at Connor with wide, slitted eyes, red staining his mouth, his array of pointed teeth. "Oh," his voice trembles just slightly. "Oh, I—forgive me, I did not mean to—"

"Issok," Connor slurs, "felt good then. Hurts now, though." 

Nines frowns, brushing his fingers against his torn flesh, and Connor hisses, flinching away. "I apologize," the fae mutters. He lifts himself from bed, and Connor makes a confused sound, grabbing at his sleeves. "I'll be right back," he says, and Connor reluctantly lets go. 

He thinks he might've phased out of consciousness for a bit, because the next thing he knows, there's a wet cloth wiping at his groin, and then another one at his neck. He gasps in pain, weakly trying to shove the hand away. "Shh. I'm cleaning it. I'm not very skilled at healing magic, but I should be able to help it heal faster and prevent any infection, at the very least."

"Hurts," Connor mumbles. 

"I know, I know. Just hold on for a moment, will you?"

"... 'kay…"

Nines lifts the towel away, and then hesitates, hands on the buttons of his shirt. "May I remove this?" At Connor's nod, the fae methodically unfastens the buttons, and then he's gently lifting Connor up, sliding the shirt away from his shoulders. He leans back to grab something—a roll of bandages, the one Connor keeps in the bathroom—and then carefully dresses the bite, rolling the bandage across the wound. Once he snips the roll away and pins the bandage in place, he places his hand carefully over the wound. Connor flinches only slightly, drawing his focus instead to the light glow around Nines's hand, and the same suffusing from his eyes. The pain immediately starts to ebb. "By the end of tomorrow, it should be healed," Nines says, lifting his hand up and then pulling Connor's shirt back around him. 

"Mmkay," Connor answers sleepily, eyelids heavy. God, is sex always this exhausting? Maybe it's a fae thing. He feels… drained. Fingers brush through his hair, and then he's carefully lowered back to bed. He pinches the edge of Nines's other sleeve. "Stay until I'm asleep?" Not that he'll last much longer. 

"Very well," the fae says. 

He slips away to the feeling of fingers carding gently through his hair. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, writing this fic: you get attachment! you get attachment! everyone gets attachment!
> 
> Also, not gonna lie... I may. have a thing for biting. but like, with sharp teeth. human biting is meh  
> I just like... sharp teef
> 
> ... ᴵ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵃᵐ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵒᵘᵗᶦⁿᵍ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃˢ ᵃ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳᶠᵘᶜᵏᵉʳ ʰᵘʰ


	4. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He really didn't think this through, huh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 2217

He wakes up with an odd sense of deja vu. Alone, staring at his ceiling, dressed in his pajamas, clothes piled neatly on his desk. 

The thing that's different, though, is the slight pull of pain on his neck. He winces as he tries to shift his shoulder. That'll be a bother when writing… maybe he'll visit Dad instead, today. 

He calls ahead— _ I'm free, yeah, come whenever you want, Connor— _ and soon enough, he's at the door of his dad's house. 

Despite having his own keys, he gives a knock before letting himself inside. "Dad?"

"Over here, Con," he hears from the couch. 

He climbs over the back of the couch, careful not to pull his shoulder, lowering himself to sit next to his dad. "How are you doing?"

"Not bad, I guess. Jeffrey let me come back for desk work, at least. You?"

"Finished a few chapters. Feeling good." 

Dad smiles. "Glad to hear it, kid." 

They chat idly about this and that. Dad complains about a rookie at work, Connor tells him a few of the ideas he was thinking for future stories. Eventually, though, they lapse into silence. "Are you… happy to have recovered?" Connor asks quietly, breaking it.

His dad looks at him, wide-eyed. "Am I—of course I fucking am, Connor! This all seems too good to be true, I just. I'm just worried about what you had to do—"

Dad puts a hand on his shoulder, and he can't help the hiss that escapes him as he flinches away. And then he freezes, his own wide eyes meeting his dad's. He really didn't think this through, huh.

"Connor," his dad says slowly, "Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay," Connor dodges, eyes flicking away. "Don't worry about it."

"You were fine when you left. You were nervous, you…" Connor watches the pieces click together, and he wants nothing more than to disappear into nothingness. "Does this have to do with whatever deal you made?" 

"I'm fine," Connor insists. "It'll heal by tonight." 

"So you  _ are  _ hurt." His dad's eyes are burning. "Show me."

"What?"

"You did this for me. Don't you think it's fair I get to see what it did to you? C'mon, kid."

Connor shakes his head. "It's not that bad—"

"I'll decide that for myself. Lemme see."

Connor relents. He unfastens his shirt, pulling it away, revealing the bandages wrapped around him. Dad grits his teeth at the sight. 

His hands are clumsy as he undoes the pins, wincing as he shifts his shoulder, until his dad eases his hands away. "Let me." 

Connor nods, and his dad carefully unwinds the bandages until the bite is revealed. It looks a few days old already, well on the way to healing, but it's still very clearly a bite from something that isn't human. He's glad the other marks of Nines's activities already seem to have healed, at least.

"Oh, Connor," Dad murmurs. "What did you agree to?" 

"I don't regret it. It's really okay." He's not lying. 

His dad carefully lifts a hand to circle the skin around the bite. "Is the deal complete, then?"

"I don't know…"

"What—" his dad gapes at him. "How do you not know?" 

Connor fidgets. "It's just—we're trying to—" he flushes deeply, putting his face in his hands. "We're trying to make a kid so he can have my firstborn because I don't think I'll ever have kids but cheating deals are bad but it didn't work so we did it again and I don't know if it worked," he says in a single breath.

Silence. And then, "You  _ what?"  _

Connor sinks into the cushions, begging them to swallow him whole.

"You told me you're on the asexual spectrum," Dad starts.

"Asexuals can have sex," Connor says through his hands. "I just… don't experience attraction to people that way, all that much. It's not like I can't enjoy it…" 

A hand on his bicep. "Did they… hurt you? Not just physically."

"No! No," Connor denies, jerking up, "This was an accident, he's really nice, he takes care of me after. He healed me as much as he could. He's never—we're equally inexperienced," Connor laughs breathily. 

"Really."

"Really. He's nice…"

Dad narrows his eyes at him. Connor squirms, until his dad finally sighs. "Alright. I trust you. Now c'mere, lemme wrap this up again."

* * *

They don't do much else that day. They walk Sumo, taking him around the nearby dog park. They watch TV for a bit. They cook dinner together. 

The doorbell rings while they're cleaning dishes. "I'll get it," Connor says, wiping his hands dry. 

He makes his way to the front door, opening it. 

He slams it closed immediately. 

"Connor?" Dad calls from the kitchen. "Who is it?"

"Just uhhhhhh," he stalls, "Someone who I was supposed to meet at my apartment?" He says loudly, hopefully loud enough for Nines to hear. 

He hears the sound of running water shutting off, and then his dad is striding over purposefully, gently pushing Connor aside to wrench open the door. 

Nines is gone, blessedly. Connor's not sure if he ever wants the two of them to cross paths. 

His dad turns to him, a suspicious look in his eye. "That was him, wasn't it."

Connor bites his lip, looking anywhere but at his dad, clasping his hands together. 

"So, what, you're gonna head home so the two of you can fuck?"

_ "Dad!" _ Connor groans. "Nooooo… I mean yes, but no… I mean, I might ask him to wait a little longer? Maybe tomorrow. This is a lot." 

His dad purses his lips. "If he hurts you, I—ah, fuck…" he draws a hand roughly through his hair. He looks helpless. "Just be careful, okay? I'm not gonna ask you to go back on your deal, I just. I just don't want to see you get hurt." 

"I'll be careful," Connor assures. "I'll be okay."

Dad pulls him into a careful hug, avoiding his shoulder. "If you need to talk about—about any of it. I'll be here, okay?"

"Okay," Connor mumbles. "Thanks, Dad." 

* * *

When he opens the door to his apartment, Nines is already sitting on his couch. "How'd you get inside?" he blurts.

Nines gestures towards his balcony. Glass sliding doors lined with curtains, leading to a small area overlooking the city. It's not locked, so, well, okay. 

Connor pulls off his shoes and takes off his coat. "Did you fly, or something?"

"Something like that," Nines answers cryptically. 

Connor finishes putting everything away, and then pads up to Nines, standing across the coffee table. "I'm guessing it didn't work?"

"No." Nines purses his lips. "I don't understand why… my kind can be very fertile, if we wish it…"

Connor frowns. "Is it me?"

He gets an appraising look from the fae. "No, you are a very healthy specimen of a human male."

"Uh. Thanks?" 

"It might be—" Nines frowns. "No… though I suppose I wouldn't know…"

Connor walks around the table, sitting next to Nines. "I mean, we can keep trying. Can we wait until tomorrow, though? Your bite still hasn't fully healed yet."

Nines frowns again, eyes falling to Connor's shoulder. "That… would be acceptable. I apologize, again." 

"It's fine," Connor waves him off. "Do you wanna come back later, or…?"

The fae blinks. "If you do not mind my presence, I would prefer to stay here. The flow of time in the fae realm relative to this plane fluctuates greatly." 

Connor bobs his head in a nod. "Sure, why not? We're already banging each other," he says dryly. "Make yourself at home." He gestures vaguely to his sparse apartment, and then pauses. "Uh—do you need to eat or drink or anything?"

"No," Nines gives a slight shake of his head. "I am sustained by natural energies. They are much less abundant here than at home, but I will not require any sustenance as you do."

"Oh. Neat." Connor wavers for a moment. "I'll just, uh. Do my thing?"

Nines nods. "I will be here." And then he closes his eyes, falling very, very still. 

Connor blinks. Leans closer, curious—and then jumps when Nines speaks. "Aren't you going to 'do your thing'?" The fae's eyes don't open, and his expression doesn't change. 

"Y-yeah! Yeah." He immediately stands up. "Gonna do that now," he says, quickly making his way across his apartment. 

He cleans up a bit first, before microwaving some leftovers for himself. Nines doesn't move an inch, even when Connor unabashedly stares at him while he eats. Not to say he doesn’t feel awkward. 

He goes to his room to work on his book for a bit, letting himself get lost in the words for a few hours. Well, two hours. He set an alarm. When he peeks out of his room, Nines is still in the exact same position. Hm. 

Connor goes to take a shower. He peels off the bandage, only now noticing that the injury had stopped bothering him a while ago. Only the faint marks of the bite remain, and he thinks he can almost  _ see  _ them growing smaller. Doesn't look like it'll scar, which is nice. 

He steps into his glass-walled shower, letting the white noise and pattering heat of the running water empty his thoughts—if only for a bit. 

It's not long before he's stepping back into the living room, dressed in his oversized pajama shirt and loose sweatpants, toweling at his hair. 

Nines still hasn't moved. Connor finds himself padding over to the coffee table, bare feet making quiet  _ paps _ against the hardwood floor. He kneels on the fuzzy rug, folding his arms over the table so he can pillow the side of his head against them, watching Nines sideways. 

The fae is so still he might as well be a statue. Or maybe a plant. Come to think of it, didn't he say fae grow like plants? Hmm. Fae houseplant.

… He feels blasphemous.

"Are you gonna stay like that all night?" He asks.

"That was the plan, yes," Nines answers, moving nothing but his mouth to speak. 

Connor hums, and silence stretches for a few minutes. "What do you actually look like?"

At that, Nines blinks his eyes open at Connor. His expression, or lack thereof, betrays nothing. "You saw me in the forest."

"Yeah, but," he gestures at his own face. "Do you have, I dunno, a default face?" 

Nines is silent for long enough that Connor thinks he won't answer. But, "I don't remember." 

Connor blinks, sitting up. Nines meets his eyes, face impassive. "I can appear however I wish. But if I had a face of my own, I no longer recall it." 

"Does that," Connor hesitates, "bother you?"

"I don't allow it to." Nines closes his eyes again, and Connor recognizes it as dismissal. 

He's always been pretty foolhardy, though. Only a few minutes pass before he speaks up again. "Is it uncomfortable to be like this? To be all… human, I mean."

"I can maintain this appearance for as long as I wish."

"That doesn't answer my question, though." Connor fiddles with the edge of his sleeve. "When we, uh. You keep shifting little bits."

Nines sighs, opening his eyes again. "It's not my natural form. The way you first saw me is indeed more… comfortable." 

"You can—be that, then, if you want. I'm the only one here, anyways, and I've already seen you." 

Nines holds his gaze for a few seconds. Then he closes his eyes, and Connor can't help the pang of disappointment—but  _ that _ is immediately erased when dark forms emerge from the black void of his shirt, unfurling like petals on a blooming flower to spread into the array of butterfly-like wings. His ears elongate as his skin grows paler, a blue-gray that Connor hadn't noticed in the ambient blue light of the faery forest. His nails darken and lengthen into black points, and dark nubs push through his hair, darkened and desaturated, until they curl into the elegant curves of his antlers. 

Connor can't tear his eyes away. He's riveted, even as Nines's dark-framed eyes slide open, and the icy gaze pins him. The air seems to hum with quiet power, and Connor has no illusions about how he is completely at this being's mercy. 

But the only thing that escapes from his mouth is a breathy "You're so pretty…"

"I know."

Connor's eyebrows lift up at that, but Nines only folds his wings around himself, draping them over his shoulders like a cape. "When are you going to sleep?" the fae asks. 

"Oh. Soon, I guess. It's pretty late. Mind if I turn the lights off?"

"I can see in the dark."

"Oh. Neat." Connor stands up, making his way to the light switch and flicking it off. He glances back at Nines—the blue of his wings seem to glow, faintly, and Connor stares for a bit before finally going to his room. "G'night," he mumbles, before he steps inside.

"Good night," Nines echoes, and somehow a warm feeling flutters in him at the response. 

He climbs into bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin and staring at the ceiling. A few minutes pass, before he flips over to his stomach, wrapping his arms around his pillow. 

He falls asleep just like that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor's just doing his best


	5. Questions (E)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor asks a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 1828
> 
> me, drawing the art for this chapter: it's just gonna be a sketch. well, I mean, I could add some solid colors. WELL, it'd be easy to clean up the edges a bit - okay that's a painting

When he wakes up, addled by the tendrils of sleep still clinging to him, he almost forgets there's a fae in his apartment. That is, until he walks out of his room to see Nines, still sitting on the couch. He's returned to being completely human-shaped. Connor's a little disappointed.

"Good morning," Connor calls out. 

"Good morning," Nines returns. 

"Gonna make breakfast first? And then we can, uh. Yeah."

"Very well." 

Connor makes himself some almond milk pancakes, sprinkling them with oatmeal and almond slices, and heats some frozen sausages in the pan while he's at it. He quietly hums a tune to something he's forgotten the name of, only to look up and see Nines watching him. 

He freezes. Nines looks away. He returns his attention to the pan slowly, occasionally glancing back up to the fae, but Nines doesn't move again. He finishes, eventually, and sidles over to the table, pouring a generous helping of syrup over his pancakes and then wrapping them around the sausages. 

His thoughts swirl as he eats. "Hey," he says eventually, after swallowing a mouthful, "Why do I always get so sleepy after sex? I feel like it isn't normal? Would that happen even if we go at it in the morning?"

"Ah," Nines says, turning to him. "Yes, that. Well. Sexual acts typically accompany an exchange of vital energy."

"Uh huh," he says, taking another bite of his food.

"This is not typically an issue between those of the same species, but… You might say that I have a greater gravity, of sorts, as the more powerful being between us. Not to mention that the penetrative partner tends to give a greater proportion of the energy. The amount you receive from me barely affects me, but I suppose the amount you give might be… draining, for you."

Connor swallows his food quickly. "Are you sucking the life out of me?" He asks, a little high-pitched.

Nines huffs. "I'm not shortening your life, no. Your energy is recovered as you sleep." 

"Oh. Great. So I'll be passing out every time we have sex?"

"It's very likely."

"Great." Connor swirls his fork around his empty plate. "What if you, uh," he coughs, "penetrated me?"

Nines raises an eyebrow at that. "You would probably lose consciousness for the opposite reason. I am much more powerful than you, and many of the other creatures that walk this plane. Your body would need time to process the input."

So if he gets fucked, he'll really get fucked, huh. The idea is… arousing, somehow. It sends a bolt of heat to his gut, but he supposes he'll never know, since he's the one trying to get Nines pregnant.

… That's not a phrase he ever thought he'd think. 

"Great," he says, and then gets up to wash his dishes. Once he's done, he walks back over to Nines, who meets his eyes impassively. "Bedroom?" He gestures towards his room. 

"Yes." Nines stands, and follows Connor as he goes to his room. Connor slides out of his pants and underwear, and after a pause, takes his shirt off as well. He immediately feels exposed, lifting his arms around his chest, and he's reconsidering his decision. But then Nines gently places his hands on his shoulders, pushing him back towards his bed. 

The fae has divested himself of all his clothes as well. Connor notices, and frowns, looking off to the side. "Can we," he grips his own wrist, "do it under the covers?" He thinks that would be… better. Ease some of his sudden discomfort. 

Nines pauses, and then nods. He lifts Connor up, pulling a yelp of surprise from him as he throws his arms around Nines's neck, before his brain connects the dots that Nines is strong enough to manhandle him. The thought goes straight to his dick, and he's sure the fae can feel it twitch where it's pressed against him. 

In moments, Connor is on his back, and Nines is kneeling around Connor's legs. He twists back to grab the covers, pulling them over his shoulders and then leaning over. Their chests are pressed against each other, then, and all he can see is Nines's face. This is… this is good. Connor reaches up to hook his fingers around Nines's neck, bringing lips to his own, kissing slowly, sensually. Nines's tongue teases at his lips—the feeling of the forked tip is certainly… different. He lets Nines in willingly, letting the fae explore his mouth. It's slower than the other times, feeling less like Nines is trying to plunder his very breath, and more like the fae is just exploring every corner of his mouth. Connor slides his hands down to Nines's back, wondering vaguely if he can taste the traces of his breakfast.

He hears a shift, and then lets out a breathy moan against Nines's mouth as he feels slender fingers—like his own, but not—wrap around his length, stroking him deliberately, from root to tip. He gyrates his hips slowly, pressing against Nines's hand in an asymmetric rhythm, and their kiss grows heated, Nines pressing deeper. 

And then he's being guided to Nines's entrance, walls slowly swallowing his cock, and he chokes out something between a sob and a moan. Nines pulls his tongue out of Connor's mouth, a wet sound accompanying the action, and the fae reaches up to thumb away the sudden wetness at Connor's cheeks. "You're crying," he notes, brow furrowing slightly. "Should I stop?"

"N—no, don't." He grips onto Nines even more tightly. "No, please, it's really good, I'm just—"

"Alright," Nines murmurs, pressing his lips to Connor's cheek, brushing away the tears. "You're doing very well, Connor."

That's unfair, that's just _unfair—_ Connor makes a sound deep in his throat at Nines's words, closing his eyes, as he jerks his hips up. 

The action pulls a soft "Ah," from Nines, and he moves his hands down to Connor's waist, before starting to _move._ They find a rhythm, grinding deeply, pulling away until his tip is just inside, then pressing back in. Nines breathes unsteadily against Connor's neck, and he's worried Nines might bite him again. But no—he seems to clench his jaw closed, huffs turning to hissed breaths through his teeth. 

Connor feels… ensconced. Wrapped in Nines's arms, hidden under the blankets, the sensual rhythm building his pleasure like a castle of cards. He feels… free, light, in a strange way, his mind empty of everything but Nines, the breath on his neck, the hands on his waist, the smell of pine and snow and sweat, the ache in his cock. 

His orgasm rises like the crest of a tide, washing over him, percolating through every cell in his body. He comes with a long, low moan, spilling into the fluttering muscle around him, and then everything seems to just… float away. 

It's so strange. Part of him is aware of Nines's hips stuttering against him, grinding deeply, using his spent dick. But it's like something's been knocked loose in him, making reality grow distant, and he stares blankly at Nines when the fae shudders, stops, and then lifts himself up to see Connor's face. 

Nines draws a hand against Connor's cheek, and he leans into the touch, humming softly. "Connor?"

"Mm…" Is his only response, still staring into Nines's pretty slit eyes. 

Nines frowns, and then pulls himself off of Connor's dick in a wet slide. Connor just blinks at him slowly. "I will return shortly," Nines says, easily prying off Connor's loose grip and leaving to go to the bathroom. Connor watches him go, and watches him return, paper towels in hand, some wet, some not. 

He starts to lift away the blanket, and Connor's eyes widen, clinging to it. Nines raises an eyebrow, and then just pulls it over the both of them, cocooning them in a darkness lit only by the morning light filtering through the sheets. He looks a little ridiculous, the cloth caught in a tent from his head, but his expression doesn't change as he starts cleaning Connor off, wiping away the stickiness at his groin and then pulling a towel across his skin. The cool wetness is a relief as his sweat is wiped away. 

Part of Connor realizes that this is probably what he did while Connor was asleep, the other two times. Nines seems to be satisfied, at some point, because he ducks under the blankets, leaving to probably throw out the towels. Connor pulls the blanket down so his eyes are out, and he sees that he's right. 

Nines bends down to pick his own shirt up, pulling it on in a single motion. He doesn't bother with his pants at the moment, but the shirt is long enough to cover pretty much everything of import.

He then moves to take Connor's pajamas off the floor. He frowns at the sight of them, and then waves his hand, a soft light emanating from them. The wrinkles seem to uncrease, and Connor thinks they might look cleaner. Convenient. 

The fae looks at him, then, and sees Connor still staring at him. Nines frowns again, approaching. He tries to lift the blanket once more, but Connor clings to it tightly, arms lifting with the movement.

The fae sighs, and climbs underneath it, pulling it over both of them again. He seems to struggle a bit with the positioning, but soon enough, he's helping Connor back into his pajamas, the slide of his cool fingers lingering as he draws the fabric over him. Nines climbs out, and then pulls the blanket to Connor's chin. He lays down next to him over the sheets, reaching over to card his fingers through Connor's hair. The movement seems more purposeful than sensual, and Connor thinks he might be grooming his hair back into place. A few minutes later, he frames his hands around Connor's face to turn him this way and that, and, seeming to be satisfied, lets him go. He gets up, but Connor immediately shoots out a hand to grab his arm. 

"... Connor?"

It takes a moment for Connor to formulate what he wants to say, but eventually: "Stay?" 

It's hard to read Nines's expression, backlit by the morning light as he is, but he climbs back under the blankets, joining Connor in bed. Connor doesn't waste a single moment in wrapping all his limbs around him, and Nines gives an almost exasperated sigh—but he wraps his arms around Connor, too, dragging his fingers gently across the back of Connor's neck.

The sleepiness is starting to hit, now, and he presses his head against Nines's chest as he gradually loses his ability to keep his eyes open. "Hey," he mumbles. "Can you… Tell me if it works? So I know…" 

Nines's fingers stop for a moment, before returning to their slow motions. "Very well."

Connor feels an odd sense of relief, and lets his eyes fall shut. 

The world falls away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably put way too much thought into the mechanics of supernatural sex skdjfdskjhf  
> So basically, in the case of penetrative sex between two beings of different metaphysical power, there is an exchange of energy. The total energy exchanged depends on the power of both beings, more dependent on the penetrative partner, but the penetrative partner will always give more of it. 
> 
> Like, say Connor has 100 units and Nines has 1,000,000  
> So here he probably gave 80 and got 50 or something like that  
> If Nines were doing the fucking, Connor would probably give 95 and get 50,000 or something HAHA  
> I can't believe I thought about this so much.
> 
> Also, yes. Connor is very weak to praise jhjh  
> Art is posted on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/Au_spice/status/1277699307412443137?s=20)!


	6. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No reasons to stay...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 1745

Weeks pass before Connor sees Nines again. He keeps thinking about him—when he sees butterflies in the parks—wings so like his. When he jogs in chill, foggy, mornings. When he goes to bed at night, remembering his touch, remembering that cotton feeling after the last time. 

He wonders if it was finally successful, if Nines was dealing with… pregnancy. From him. He wonders if it was just time dilation, or whatever you call it, and barely any time has passed for Nines at all. 

Connor doesn't talk about it with his dad, but he can tell he wants to ask. Jeffrey seems to have finally let Dad back on cases, and he simultaneously looks more alive and more stressed. 

"Just a bad case," Dad tells him, on a day that his nerves are particularly frayed. "Homicide, you know. I'll spare you the details."

"You work on supernatural stuff, right?" Connor asks. "Is this one?"

"Yeah." His dad drags a hand down his face. "It's just…" he sighs frustratedly. "I wonder if revealing magic was worth it if it enables crimes like this…"

"I think they would have done it anyway. You'd just know less."

"... Yeah. You're probably right."

"And," Connor adds, "I'm glad it was revealed. If it wasn't… if I didn't know, you'd be…"

Dad purses his lips at Connor's expression, drawing him into a hug. "Yeah. You're right." 

Connor spends most of his time between his place and his dad's, these days. Now that he's almost had his dad taken away from him, he doesn't want to waste a single moment. 

He even works up the nerve to join his dad at the DPD station on some days, giving a shy wave to Jeffrey when he does. All the activity gets to be a lot, sometimes, though, and he often cloisters himself in the break room for a while to get away from everything. 

Some of the people there try to talk to him, but there are days when he finds the words can't come. Officer Chen doesn't press, just giving him a smile and wave. He waves back. Officer Miller is pretty nice, too, telling him about little things, fun things. Sometimes Connor asks about a few points, and it always makes Miller's face light up, but most of the time Connor just listens quietly. 

Dad warned him to stay away from Detective Reed, though, so he freezes like a deer in headlights when he walks into the break room one day to find the detective already there, leaning on a table, coffee in hand. Their eyes meet. "S-ss." He can't. He signs without thinking, _Sorry._

He's completely shocked to see Reed sign back, _What the fuck for,_ the sign for fuck included. 

Connor stands there for about ten seconds. And then, _you know sign?_

 _What do you think,_ is the response he gets. 

The single laugh that escapes him is unexpected, and he jerks his hand up over his mouth. Reed raises an eyebrow at him, and then knocks his coffee back before tossing it in a nearby trash can. _Heading out anyways,_ the detective signs, and Connor steps aside to let him pass by. 

Huh. 

"Detective Reed knows ASL," Connor later tells his dad, once they're home. 

Dad's eyebrows raise halfway to his hairline. "Really? Huh. The more you know." 

"He didn't seem that mean. Just kinda… foul-mouthed. Handed?" 

His dad snorts. "Okay, fair enough. I still don't trust him with you, though."

"You barely trust me with anyone. I can take care of myself."

Dad ruffles his hair, and Connor squawks. "I know you can, son."

The routine is… maybe not _easy_ to fall into, but Connor does. So when his doorbell rings two and a half weeks after his last encounter with Nines, he's completely caught by surprise.

He opens the door, and the familiar sight of Nines is there, standing with perfect poise, hands behind his back. "Hello, Connor. May I come in?"

Connor blinks. "Yeah, sure," he says, opening the door fully and letting Nines step inside. 

Nines makes his way to the couch, and Connor follows, seating himself next to Nines. "So," Connor starts. 

"I am infertile."

Connor takes a second to run that through his head, and then he jerks, looking at Nines with wide eyes.

The fae meets his eyes, expression blank. "After I ascertained that we had failed yet again, I… conducted some research. Checked a few things. Consulted a few acquaintances. It has been determined that I am unable to harbor another lifeform within myself."

"Oh…" Connor hesitates, and then puts a hand on Nines's shoulder. The fae looks down at the contact, face unreadable, but he doesn't seem mad or anything, so: "Is that—are you—are you okay?"

Nines blinks slowly, and then draws his eyes back to Connor's face. "I have no desire for any progeny of my own. I am sure you are aware of what my intentions would have been for it, to some extent. It is simply an inconvenience to our deal."

Right. Connor nods, sliding his hand away, and Nines's eyes follow the motion. "Then…"

"I suppose I must wait for you to have a child with another human elsewhere."

Connor can't help the discomfort from flitting across his face. Nines watches him intently. "I… I don't know if I can…" He curls his arms around himself. "I… I don't wanna… go out and get married, make a family, have kids. I like it like this. I'm—alone, maybe, kind of, but I'm not _lonely._ Or—" he sighs frustratedly. "I wasn't," he mutters half hoping Nines wouldn't hear it. 

If he did, he doesn't comment on it. "You have your entire life ahead of you," Nines says, instead. "What makes you so sure?" 

Connor draws his shoulders up slightly. "It's just how I am." 

"I see."

Connor bites his lip, mind churning. "If I—if I do have. A kid. Would I need to tell you, or will you just know?" 

"I will know. I will appear to take it upon the hour of its birth."

"Oh." Connor pulls his coin out of his pocket, rolling it across his knuckles. "What if I'm not there? Away from the hospital, or whatever."

"Even then. The terms of our agreement allow me to become aware of the birth itself."

"That's convenient." Something occurs to him, then. "Are you 'aware' of where I am, too?"

Nines tilts his head, birdlike, almost. "Yes. Your location, mostly, but if I focus on you while in the same plane as you, I can acquire some sense of your surroundings, of what you are doing."

"Wh… so the deal puts a tracker in me?"

Nines smiles slightly, all teeth. "I've learned not to allow for the opportunity to escape, if the terms of an agreement are… violated."

The statement makes a chill run through Connor. "Oh," faintly, slips out. "What happens to people that do? Violate the terms."

Nines doesn't say anything for a few seconds. And then he lifts a hand to the center of Connor's chest, pressing lightly. "Their continued existence is forfeit."

He's sure Nines can tell how the pace of his heart picks up. "But what _happens_ to them?"

Nines stares into his eyes. "Do you truly wish to know?"

"Call me morbidly curious." 

"I tear them to pieces," he says, leaning close enough for Connor to feel the chill of Nines's breath on his face, The scent reminds him of snowy mountains. "And while they still live, I rip out their soul and eat it right in front of their eyes. Sometimes, I eat the remaining bodies of the younger ones, as well."

Connor can't help the full-body shiver that runs through him at that. "I… see…" he manages. 

The fae pulls back, and Connor lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding. "You do not seem the type to go back on your word, however. I don't believe you need to worry." 

Connor's not sure what to make of that. He thinks it might mean something, Nines having such faith in him. He doesn't know. But… "What if I just… fail?" He asks in a small voice. "Despite everything…"

Nines frowns at him. Eyes evaluating. He looks away, towards the balcony. "I will come to collect your soul before the end of your life." 

"Oh. Okay," Connor says quietly. 

Both of them sit there for a few minutes. Looking at nothing in particular. But eventually, Nines stands up. "I suppose that is all, then."

"Will I—" Connor cuts himself off, looking down. He can see Nines's legs in his periphery, and the fae doesn't move. 

A few seconds later, "Will you…?"

Connor wraps his arms around himself, stalling. "Will I…" He looks up at Nines. "Will I see you again?"

The fae's eyes are inscrutable. "Perhaps," he says, "when your child is born. Beyond that…" Nines looks to the balcony. "There is no reason for us to cross paths again." 

"Oh…" Connor looks down. "It was nice getting to know you a little, then, I guess. Intimately, too, I guess," Connor mumbles. 

He feels a hand on his cheek, tilting his head up to meet that icy gaze. Huh. He didn't see Nines move. "The pleasure is mine," Nines says, and Connor wonders how many ways he means that. 

Connor lifts a hand to lightly curl around Nines's wrist. When the fae starts to draw away, he squeezes just a bit tighter, Nines's eyes flicking to the contact—and then he lets go. 

"Bye, Nines," Connor says quietly.

Nines straightens fully before he answers. "Farewell, Connor."

He steps slightly to the side, and there's something _other_ there. Reality seems to shimmer, like distortions in an aberrant lens, rainbow wavelengths flickering in and out of existence. Nines, too, seems to be in a strange state of distortion, edges wavering with insubstantiality. And then, with Connor's next blink, it's all gone.

 _Nines_ is gone. 

Connor sits there for a while. He lifts a hand to his face, right where Nines had held him. 

That's… that, then. 

Things will go back to normal, more or less. Back to the ways things were, like nothing ever changed. 

It's what he wanted.

Isn't it? 

He has Dad, now. For the rest of his natural life. He has his job, quietly toiling away at his books. It's everything he needs. It's enough, it's always been enough. It will be enough.

It has to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of the first part - thank you all for reading!  
> I'll be posting the next part soonish, so I'd recommend bookmarking or subscribing to the series! Or just keeping an eye out.
> 
> Also, I like a nice Gavin Reed. I'd like to think he's the kind of guy that knows how to handle nervous/anxious people, despite his apparent brusqueness. A softie underneath it all, hehe.
> 
> Thanks again to [Ronnie Silverlake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RonnieSilverlake/pseuds/RonnieSilverlake) for betaing and discussing ideas with me :'D
> 
> An example of the shenanigans we get up to:  
> Ronnie: so what does his breath smell like  
> Me:  
> Me: snowy mountains and maybe mint  
> Ronnie: so, tic-tac  
> Me:

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Check me out on social media:  
> Deviantart: [Ausp-ice](https://www.deviantart.com/ausp-ice)  
> Tumblr: [@ausp-ice](https://ausp-ice.tumblr.com/)  
> Instagram: [@ausp.icium](https://www.instagram.com/ausp.icium/)  
> Twitter: [Ausp_ice](https://twitter.com/Ausp_ice)
> 
> I also have a NSFW Twitter, which is the only place I'm posting my NSFW content at the moment: [Au_spice](https://twitter.com/Au_spice)


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